


Upended

by SomeSunnyDay



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Nightmares, Scriabin is actually kind of not a jerk in this one, only because he was tired, poor Edgar can't even catch a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSunnyDay/pseuds/SomeSunnyDay
Summary: Edgar dreams very disjointed things, and sometimes, it comes together as a nightmare.-(Zarla-Verse fic)
Relationships: Edgar Vargas/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Upended

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarla/gifts).



> So I'm only capable of writing these two with dream sequences and really rough mornings ^^'
> 
> I'm slowly getting over my anxiety of posting these fics, so there's that lol

"C'mon! Push it in!" 

"I'm trying! It's not working-"

Edgar gripped Scriabin's shoulders, he's indirectly pulling his hair. 

"Fuck-"

"Language!" Edgar coughed, the grass was killing his sinuses.

Scriabin elbowed him and Edgar fell back. Alright- so, trying to make a hideout was going to be more difficult than he'd first thought.

Swiping dirt from his clothes, Edgar rubbed his cheeks. 

"Man why is it when you construct our dreams it's never stable?" Scriabin kicked at snow and rubbed his shoulders.

Edgar looked around, one side of the area was desert, which dug into the greenery of the bit next to it, and wove into the barren autumn of the one after that, then that part blew into the cold bite of the last area. It was the four seasons but in real life, just a little disorganized.

Edgar shrugged, he wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure why Scriabin asked, since usually he knew the answer to his mental processes. He turned back and Scriabin was digging through the hole they found, he was pulling out tiny..crab forks..?

"When was the last time we had any sort of seafood?" Scriabin examined the fork as he asked distractedly.

Edgar wasn't sure.

He sneezed when the spring area picked up the autumn winds. He slid down to where Scriabin was. He just let the areas be, it was admittedly very interesting to look at. Scriabin was distracted with pulling out random things from the dirt.

They were getting on well this time, which was surprising but Edgar would take it anytime.

"Did we have a dog?" Scriabin pulled out a black collar with red, silver, and blue tags.

Edgar looked over, puzzled, "No?"

"I think you saw the neighbor's dog, you wanted him-  _ Nibbles _ ." Scriabin lightly jingled the tags.

Edgar turned to dig at his side of the ditch, "I think the neighbor you were thinking of was a few houses down actually. Nibbles would run to the end of their gate and wag his tail when we passed."

Scriabin threw the collar to the top of the ditch, "I like that memory, I call dibs on the collar for my side of the hangout."

Edgar chuckled, "Ok, I'll have to hammer in some nails then, Grandma would be furious if you hurt your hand with the hammer."

Scriabin stopped digging, "Yeah..why aren't we in the backyard with the sandbox?"

Edgar shrugged again and pushed up his glasses, he was sweaty. He took off his shirt and prayed to God Scriabin didn't make any suggestive comments- considering who they were right now. 

Scriabin looked over and made a face, "Edgar- you could just step out into the snow area."

Edgar laughed, "I like it over here, with you, I'm just hot."

Scriabin looked back to his pile of stuff he pulled up, his hair was tied back, sweater wrapped around his waist and his jeans folded up to his knees like shorts. He huffed.

Edgar looked over and squinted, "Hold on..what's that?" He put his shirt back on and slid down more. Scriabin made a noncommittal noise and slid down after.

Edgar looked intently at..a fingernail?

Edgar moved and dug through- "Scriabin help- there's a lady-" His voice was cracking. He yanked at her hand and Scriabin looked closely at her arm, the pinwheel tattoo stood out.

"Isn't that Michelle? From the gas station?"

Edgar looked and he wheezed, "Oh my God it is-"

"Calm down-"

"She's buried in the fucking sand Scri!" He dug at thick chunks of dirt and unearthed her head. He gagged.

"..put her back."

"What? No!"

"Fucking- Edgar put her the fuck back! Now!" Scriabin hit Edgar's shoulder and grabbed the book he'd taken out previously, he climbed up and out of the ditch.

Edgar looked back and yelled, "Scriabin where are you going?"

Scriabin fixed his pants, rolled them back, and threw on his sweater. "You're getting a nightmare! C'mon we can't be here!"

Edgar looked at Michelle's face, her eyes were gone and her jaw was dragged off next to the rest of her. He felt guilty, and she decayed more.

"God  _ damnit  _ Edgar come on!"

He moved her arm gently back and he felt tears. He didn't want to leave her- but he surmised that if her eyes and jaw were dislodged she was probably already dead. He climbed up the way Scriabin did and he wondered if he wanted her dead? Michelle was always nice to him and Scriabin, why would he hurt her?

The area was disappearing and shifting, Scriabin grabbed the collar and helped Edgar out of the ditch. They looked back as everything slid into itself and got recovered, like quicksand.

"..Wake up." Scriabin let his hair down and Edgar turned back to him, "What?"

"Wake up. It'll only get worse."

Edgar looked back to the ditch, "..Ok."

He felt Scriabin pat his arm and he closed his eyes.  _ Wake up. _

Edgar shot up in his bed, he shouted. He looked for Scriabin,  _ are you awake? _

Silence.

There were footsteps from the hall and Edgar froze.

_ C'mon Scri- please- _

The door opened and someone stepped through, Edgar felt panic but when the person got loser he recognized that it was Scriabin. His hair was messy and he looked out of it. Edgar took a second to realize that Scriabin was here and not in his head  _ again. _

"Michelle?" His voice was chalky.

Edgar sighed and messed with the blanket, "Yeah."

Scriabin slowly sat at the side of Edgar and pulled him to rest on his chest. Edgar had given up on telling Scriabin about the cover story. No one could see them, and Scriabin would do what he wanted anyways.

"You should tell her. The more you wait, the worse the guilt will be, and the harsher the dreams will get." He ran his hands over Edgar's arms. 

Edgar felt anxious and he couldn't tell where it was coming from. He hated the feeling.

Scriabin was tired, that's why he was calm. But Edgar didn't want to tell her, he didn't know Michelle well and he didn't want to scare her and it was just his issue and it would make her not like him and then he'd be al-

"Hey! Not right now, Edgar calm the fuck down." He held Edgar tighter and Edgar cried.

He wasn't a bad person, he knew it was just residual guilt. But it kept driving its nails in his hands. Ever present and he couldn't run from it.

Scriabin softly placed kisses to his head, "Make a choice. Tell her or suffer. What's worse? A slight misunderstanding or night terrors?" He breathed slowly, his words were dragging after themselves,"..I call night terrors."

Edgar couldn't keep his eyes open very well. 

He readjusted himself to lay more comfortably at Scriabin's side, "..I'm not sure, but-..I hope to make a decision by the morning."

He felt Scriabin sigh but he just covered them in the blanket. "Todd has show and tell at school today. Don't be late."

Edgar nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Scriabin lightly rub his arm as he dozed off. He'd probably tell Michelle, maybe if he phrased it right, he could get some herbal recommendations from her, she did say she liked alternative medicine.

Edgar focused on Scriabin's breathing. As his breathing leveled out, he started to snore quietly. Edgar's face twitched as he settled. Scriabin stopped rubbing his arm and he fell back asleep.

The world melted again and Edgar went back to mindlessly running about in a regular dream. He'd wake up and Scriabin would be elsewhere in the house, he'd help Todd get ready for school, things would resume as normal.


End file.
